In Love And War
by ChimericalParoxysm
Summary: Fred and Hermione argue a lot. When forced to make peace, they might just  finally  realize some things.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: In response to MidnightEmberMisery's Art of War competition. My rule is below, and my pairing was Hermione/Fred.

* * *

_He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight._

xXx

Hermione Granger was intensely pragmatic. Fred Weasley was rather the opposite. Hermione Granger's entire being was based in logic and fact. Fred Weasley lived in a realm of creativity, where facts existed only to be disproven. Hermione Granger's favourite pastime was reading. Fred Weasley never so much as read directions. Of course, all of this really means nothing, or it would if not for their shared stubbornness, which caused them to clash with each other so terribly frequently.

She could accept, really, that he was a joker. He was fabulous at it. She admired his passion and his ability. And Fred, he could accept that she was an academic sort of person. Her intellect was renowned. He couldn't help but marvel at her dedication and her focus. And yet…

"Could you and your brother not just take your idiotic antics elsewhere?" She shouted, absolutely fed-up, bluntly ignoring the fact that George had taken off as soon as the argument has started.

Fred scowled. She was one of the few people that could really manage to throw off his near-permanent cheer. "I hardly see why that would be necessary."

"_Some_ of us," she hissed, "Actually have to _work_ for a living!"

"And I suppose you're bloody well suggesting that George and I don't?"

She deflated a bit, and he knew she regretted what she'd said. He also knew she'd _never_ admit it. Their rows were near-legendary at this point. They would get on just fine one moment, and the next they'd be screaming at each other for reasons neither of them could recall five minutes later.

"Well, unless you call your _tinkering_ 'work'…" she replied with a disdainful sniff.

"Oh right, because _reading_ is a fulltime job, yes? Pouring over other people's work and never doing a bloody thing yourself—a true accomplishment, _you_ are."

Fire flashed through her eyes and she slammed the volume shut. "I've had more than enough of your mindless drivel."

"Good! You'll be leaving then?" he asked in a pseudo-polite tone.

"Sometimes, Fred Weasley, I _hate_ you."

He nodded absently. "I rather think I sometimes hate you more."

She bit back a smile, and that was that. Just as suddenly as it started, just like always, and neither bothered to question it anymore. He plunked into the seat beside her. "What _are_ you working on anyhow?"

A heavy sigh. "Some piece of rubbish for the protection of House Elves."

"Finally beginning to come around, are you?"

Hermione looked at him seriously. "I think I'm going to quit."

"Wait. What?"

"I hate it, Fred. All of it. This bloody house elf thing, running around the Ministry doing bloody paperwork. I've _made_ a difference, haven't I? I helped save the world from Voldemort. That was something, yeah? I mean, the damned things don't even _want_ my stupid help. Can I be wrong, just this once? Is that alright? Do I suddenly stop being Hermione if I've made a mistake?" There was an edge of desperation he'd never heard in her voice before. Not in the darkness of the war, not in the aftermath of her relationship with Ron, not ever.

He slid his arm around her shoulders, smiling when she rested her head comfortably against him. "Of course you can be wrong. Hell, I think the entire wizarding world would hold a bloody celebration. Can we do a press release? Rita might be up for the challenge."

She laughed weakly, gently punching his arm. "Really though, Fred, I've spent years championing this stupid cause. I went so far as deciding to make a bloody career out of it. Can I just turn around and say, 'Oops! I was wrong!'?"

He grinned. "'Mione, I don't think you're even capable."

"Is that a _challenge_, Mister Weasley?"

He scoffed. "When's the last time you ever admitted you were wrong about anything?"

She was silent a long time, thinking solidly about something.

"I'm sorry I've said such awful things to you when we fight. I never mean them, really, and I always feel really badly afterwards." She spoke the words to the table in front of them, but they still meant an amazing amount to him.

"Thanks, 'Mione. It—I. Well, I don't mean the things I say either. I don't even know where they come from."

"Why do we even ever fight, Fred?" she mused aloud. "I mean… I've thought about it, and I just—I can't figure it out."

He squeezed her shoulder.

"Because you two idiots are bloody well in love and it drives you both bonkers when you're within five yards of each other," a voice announced from the doorway.

They both spun in their seats to face Ginny, who was looking at them knowingly.

"Yeah. Right." They said sarcastically together, unsure whether she was just having them on.

She laughed wryly. "No, I suppose you might not ever admit it. But how about this: I _challenge_ the two of you to not fight for an _entire_ week, a week in which you both see each other _every day_."

"And this will prove what, exactly?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

Ginny's grin was mischievous. "We'll see. Suppose you can manage it?"

Neither of them was able to back down from a challenge, which the meddling Ginny knew full-well, and so they agreed, still confused about the point of the endeavour. Perhaps Ginny was just sick of their screaming…


	2. Chapter 2

_Day One - Sunday_

That morning dawned beautiful, sunny, and warm, and Hermione couldn't help but feel like it was a day for beginnings. She was humming over her breakfast when Fred appeared at her flat.

"Morning, 'Mione!" He greeted cheerfully, plunking a daisy into one of her glasses and presenting it to her with what she supposed was a flourish.

She looked at him, bemused, though secretly a bit touched that he'd remembered she loved them. "To what do I owe the occasion?"

"Why, it's day one of our peace treaty, mademoiselle. You haven't forgotten, surely?" He looked at her suspiciously, and she laughed.

"But of course not. I just hadn't realised we were exchanging gifts for the occasion."

"Well," he admitted reluctantly, "I thought it might be for the best, as I have some… news."

"Ginny wants us at the Burrow for supervision," she stated, no question in her voice.

He seemed to perceive that she wasn't going to decapitate him. "Indeed, fair lady, shall I escort you to thine happy destination?"

"Merlin, let me shower first!"

"Well I don't know that—," he cut himself off, wary of provoking wrath and losing the challenge right off the bat. "Alright then, I'll just wait here."

She laughed again and headed up the stairs.

The rest of the day flew by easily, with nary an altercation between the two. Ginny watched closely.

xXx

_Day Two - Monday_

Hermione woke to the startlingly close view of Fred's face.

"Bloody _hell_, Fred, what the—." She cut off her angry retort. "Er. Morning."

He looked at her sheepishly. "Sorry, 'Mione. Wasn't thinking."

She carefully swallowed her obvious retort and dragged herself from the couch. She and Fred had decided to stay there for the week, to best prove their success to Ginny. Hermione groaned when she remembered that it was Monday, which, of course, meant returning to work.

"Made you breakfast." She looked at him, startled. "Not that it's good as Mum's of course, but I don't think it'll kill you. Or turn you into anything random." She narrowed her eyes. "Or anything specific!" he added with a hasty grin.

Deciding it wasn't in his best interests to purposely piss her off she smiled at the sweet gesture, and followed him into the kitchen.

xXx

_Day Three – Tuesday_

Hermione woke up on the couch again, this time to the sizzling of bacon, and an absolutely delicious aroma, which she followed to find Fred, once again, cooking her breakfast.

"You. Are a wonderful man, Fred Weasley."

He grinned. "Oh, I know."

"Prat," she laughed.

"Oh. I know." His grin widened and he dropped a plate of food onto the table, gesturing for her to sit, which she did gratefully.

"Stupid work," she muttered as she finished her last pancake.

"So quit."

She glared at him, "Because it's just that simple, isn't it."

"Sure. Why shouldn't it be?"

A slow count to ten later. "Because, Fred, if I quit, I'll be practically un-employable. No one wants to hire some young 20-something who quit her first job—in a philanthropic field, no less—for no substantial reasoning. And even if that weren't true, even if my bloody fame could overcome that, I have no idea what I'd do. I can't just not work; I have a flat to pay rent on; I have to eat. Besides, I'd be utterly bored."

He looked at her a long moment. "Move in with me." He said simply. "You've got this month's rent paid, and by then George and Angelina will have finished moving into _their_ flat. You can have his room, and work in the shop if you're bored and don't want to feel like a dead weight."

"That's preposterous," she said firmly. Fred could tell she was thinking about it though, and that was enough for him. The woman needed a damned break in his opinion anyhow.

Ginny began to watch expectantly.

xXx

_Day Four – Wednesday_

"I did it," she announced as she stepped composedly from the fireplace.

"Er—Did what?" Harry, Ginny, and Fred were all sitting around the room looking at her perplexedly.

"I resigned from my position!"

The look of happiness on her face wasn't quite enough to suppress Harry's, "You _what_?" but Ginny didn't seem terribly surprised—a little proud, perhaps. Somehow, though, it was Fred's reaction which meant the most to Hermione, and he didn't disappoint.

"Excellent!" he exclaimed and, leaping from the couch, he spun her in a quick circle, steadfastly ignoring her protests.

"Is it?" she asked timidly, once he finally set her aright. "You're still okay with me moving in?"

He scoffed, but Harry cut through his response. "You're _what_? You'll kill each other! You two are even worse that you and Ron always were, Hermione!" The trace of genuine concern in his tone made her smile softly.

"Thanks, Harry, and I _have_ thought about it," she glanced at Fred, "But, you know, I think we'll be alright."

xXx

_Day Five – Thursday_

"Hey, 'Mione, shouldn't you be getting up for work?"

"Don't have any," she mumbled sleepily, starting when he poked her roughly in her side.

"You only gave notice yesterday, you realise."

She laughed. "Did I not mention?"

He caught the frustrated growl in the back of his throat he hated when she wouldn't just come out and say something. A bit of a dramatic flair, he supposed, but he found it immensely difficult to appreciate. "Mention what?"

"I gave my notice, but my boss said that I was wasting my talent in such a dead-end job and should get myself on to finding a new one, rather than sitting around there for another two weeks."

"Right brown noser, aren't cha?"

Instead of the anger that usually let lose at hearing that sort of comment from him, Hermione felt a flood of something else entirely. Her eyes widened slightly.

"Oi, sorry. No getting furious, see? We're almost through, and—"

She kissed him. A little hard. A little sloppy. It certainly wasn't a well-orchestrated endeavour, but it somehow seemed entirely fitting to Ginny, who was grinning madly in the doorway.

"Told you so," she sing-songed. They broke instantly apart, their eyes darting from each other, to Ginny, and back again.

Ginny just laughed. "Don't stop on my account," she said with a wink.

And so they didn't.


End file.
